Bloody Intervention
by Anderida
Summary: Buffy sees the torture Spike endured to protect her and her sister. Wracked by doubt about her calling and her coming fight with Glory she turns to Spike. Takes place at end of S5 Intervention and goes offcanon from there
1. Chapter 1 Wounds

**Bloody Intervention**

Summary: Buffy sees the torture Spike endured to protect her and her sister. Wracked by doubt about her calling and her coming fight with Glory she turns to Spike. Takes place at end of S5 Intervention and goes off-canon from there.

Credits: Intervention was written by the wonderful Jane Espenson and her words are respectfully quoted here to set the scene, and have surely influenced this fanfic.

Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit. I promise to return them when I've finished with them (but can I keep Spike, pretty please? I'll treat him well, sooo well!).

**Chapter One - Wounds**

Previously on Buffy: _Spike has been tortured by Glory in an unsuccessful attempt to make him reveal the identity of the Key. Spike is now lying on top of a sarcophagus in his crypt, covered in the wounds evincing Glory's sadistic torture of him. Buffy enters the crypt pretending to be the Buffybot_.

Buffy: Spike! You're covered in sexy wounds.  
Spike: Yeah. I feel real sexy. Where you been?  
Buffy: I fell down and got confused. Willow fixed me. She's gay.  
Spike: Will fixed you? I thought they'd melt you into scrap.  
Buffy: They were confused too. Do you wanna ravage me now?  
Spike: Give us a minute. Got some bones need mending.  
Buffy: Why did you let that Glory hurt you?  
Spike: She wanted to know who the key was.  
Buffy: Oh, well, I can tell her, and then you'll-  
Spike: No! You can't ever. Glory never finds out.  
Buffy: Why?  
Spike: 'Cause Buffy ... the other, not so pleasant Buffy ... anything happened to Dawn, it'd destroy her. I couldn't live, her bein' in that much pain. Let Glory kill me first. Nearly bloody did.  
_Buffy leans up and kisses Spike gently. Spike looks at her in surprised wonder as he realises that she is the real Buffy._

Spike: And my robot?  
Buffy: The robot is gone. The robot was gross and obscene.  
Spike: It wasn't supposed to-  
Buffy: Don't. That ... thing, it ... it wasn't even real. What you did, for me, and Dawn - that was real. I won't forget it.

-----------------------------------

Buffy turned and headed towards the heavy door of the crypt as Spike groaned quietly and, with difficulty, lay back down on the sarcophagus lid.

Spike thought that as long as he existed, and, barring staking and sunshine, that could be an eternity, he would never see anything as beautiful as the look on Buffy's face when she told him, "What you did, for me, and Dawn - that was real. I won't forget it."

If he had been staked then and there he couldn't have dusted any happier. At that moment, the pain of the wounds Glory had inflicted dissolved from his mind as he drunk in the drop of gratitude that Buffy had bestowed on him.

But his reverie was short-lived as he sensed the approach of trouble. He raised his head painfully, sniffing the air, "Fear," he said quickly, almost to himself.

Buffy turned back, looking questioningly at Spike.

"Red and the Whelp, coming here. They're frightened," Spike winced as the effort of talking caused his broken ribs to grind together and his damaged jaw to grate.

Without a word Buffy marched determinedly to the door, flung it open and stepped out of the crypt, closing the door behind her firmly, but without slamming it.

Walking into the clearing in front of the crypt, Willow and Xander looked relieved to see their friend unharmed.

"Buffy, we were worried. Are you ok?" Willow asked, her forehead creasing with concern.

"Yes, Buff, after you were gone we panicked. If Dead Boy Jnr saw through your act as Robo-Buff, I mean, he's still a vampire, right, and you were walking into the lion's den."

Buffy huffed, unaccountably annoyed at Xander's assumption, "Xander, you and Giles saw what Glory did to Spike. Do you honestly think he's in a fit state to even DEFEND himself, much less attack me?"

"Like I said, Buff, he's a vampire. They heal quick, don't they." Xander folded his arms across his chest as if to emphasise the undeniable logic of his statement.

Willow was uncharacteristically quiet as she watched her best friend take a deep breathe, as if to calm herself, before disabusing Xander of his theory.

"Xander Harris, do you even have a clue what you are saying?" Buffy began. "Yes, Spike's a vampire, but, hey," she waved her hand in the air, "Vampire Slayer here, so not likely to be in danger! And, yes, vampires heal more quickly than humans, but you saw how hurt he was, Xan. You yourself said he was 'whupped' and 'so thrashed', if I remember? You know those injuries aren't disappearing overnight, not damage that bad."

Xander opened his mouth to defend himself, or more likely to assail Spike, but Buffy stopped him dead, drawing herself into her fighting stance as she began to realise herself just what Spike had been through to protect Dawn, to protect her.

Buffy stepped closer to Xander and stabbed the air in front of him with her right index finger as she continued, "The irony of Spike's ability to heal himself is that Glory could inflict that much more pain than she could on a human. Pain that would have had YOU passing out, Spike had no such escape from. He had to endure torture that would have killed you several times over and yet still he did NOT reveal the identity of the Key!"

"He…he didn't?" gasped Willow. She and the rest of the Scoobies had been so convinced that their secret was out.

"No he didn't. And d'you know what? He never would. Glory would never have got him to spill. He would have dusted first. Could you say the same, Xander?"

"But Buffy, I'm not a vampire. You couldn't expect me to put up with …. with what Glory did to Spike." In spite of himself, Xander shivered.

"But Spike IS a vampire, Xander. That's just the point, isn't it? Buffy grumbled, as the scales dropped from her own eyes. "What allegiance does he owe any of us? Do we treat him with respect or dignity? Are we even grateful when, against his instincts, he helps us? No we assume that 'vampire' always equals 'evil' equals 'must slay'."

Buffy was red in the face, her eyes blazing and her breathing hard, partly because she was angry at herself as she realised what a hypocrite she had become.

"And I'm the biggest culprit here," she continued honestly, "I have been trained to see only humans: good; vampires: bad. Well, I think they have a word for that: 'prejudice'."

Willow tried to ease the tension that was palpable around the three of them. "Buffy, it's been a long and tiring day for all of us. How's about we head for town and hit the Ice Cream Parlour? I know I could do with some chilly chocolate goodness."

Ignoring Willow, Buffy continued, in a softer tone. "You know usually we try to treat others with respect, our opinions of them based on their actions, not on superficial distinctions or assumed differences. We try not to jump to conclusions and try to give people the benefit of the doubt. Unless, it seems, we are judging a vampire. Then it's all about our assumptions of who they are, what they'll do. We make small concessions to vampires with souls, but they come back to bite us, er …" Buffy cringed and added quickly, "figuratively speaking."

Continuing, she said, almost kindly, "Xander, I've never known you to judge a human by the colour of their skin or by their disability. Why is it so hard to extend the same courtesy to vampires? To realise that not all vampires are evil, at least, not all of the time?" Buffy was trying not to listen to herself for fear of being overwhelmed by her feelings as she realised she was guilty of monumental hypocrisy.

"Buffy," Xander began softly, realising that his friend must be really shaken up by recent events, otherwise how could he explain her seeming about-face. It couldn't be easy for her knowing that someone had been tortured to protect her sister, even if that someone was a gross, blood-sucking vampire. "It's because vampires ARE evil. That's what they are, what they do. And I've never been convinced that having a soul actually changes what they are. I'm sorry if you don't like that, but I'm being honest here, Buff."

Worried by the direction the conversation was taking, Willow stepped between her two friends. "Hey, guys, why don't we continue this riveting conversation somewhere more comfortable? The Magic Box, say? What about it?"

"You go," Buffy relaxed her posture and sighed, but still managed to make her comment sound like a command, "I have some things to do first. It may take me sometime. I'll see you later, or tomorrow maybe."

"But Buffy," Willow and Xander began together, stopping abruptly as Buffy assumed her slayer stance again.

"Go," she almost whispered, but her tone was one that would brook no argument.

Xander opened his mouth to argue but was yanked sideways by Willow as she attempted to pull him away from putting more of his feet into his mouth.

"Okey-dokey, Buffy, we'll just skedaddle down to the Magic Box." Willow was pulling Xander with her out of the clearing in the direction of the cemetery gates. "Er, join us if you like, later. Or not, whatever suits. Okay then, we're going. Stay safe. See you later. Whenever. Later's fine. It's cool. Com'on Xan, lets see if Anya's found that missing invoice for Giles yet." And with that Willow and Xander disappeared out of sight behind a family mausoleum.

Buffy stood stock-still, staring in the direction of her fleeing friends. She thought she ought to be angry with herself for rounding on Xander like that, but she couldn't honestly feel that she had done anything wrong. He was a loving, caring, charitable friend who had an unhelpful and irritating blind spot when it came to vampires. And whilst she knew that her black and white attitude to the whole vampire versus human situation, while not excusing it completely, was down to her calling as the Slayer, she couldn't quite understand why Xander was so antagonistic towards vampires in general and Spike in particular (and before that, Angel, she remembered).

Turning, she made her way slowly back to the door of Spike's crypt. Opening the door gingerly she slipped inside, closing the door quietly behind her. Spike raised his head painfully from the sarcophagus lid. "Thanks, pet," he breathed softly, although he wasn't sure if Buffy had actually said those things, or if he had brain damage and imagined it.

"You heard." It was a statement rather than a question as Buffy realised whatever else Glory had done to him, his vampire hearing had not been damaged. Buffy moved closer to him and cast her practised eye over the wounds visible on his torso, face and arms.

There was a moment of silence before an abashed Spike asked raspingly, "Slayer, could you do me a favour? I don't think I can make it to the lower chamber by m'self, and up here I'm a sitting duck for any brassed off demon." He caught his breath before continuing. "Could you help me down the ladder and close the trapdoor after me so it looks like the crypt is empty?" His head fell back on the stone lid with a thump at the effort of speaking.

Buffy nodded, and moved to the back of the crypt to open the trapdoor. She dropped down to the lower level briefly and when she returned candlelight flickered from below. Coming back to where Spike was laying she lifted his shoulders and supported his weight as he painfully swung his legs round until he was sitting on the edge of the sarcophagus. Buffy inwardly cringed as she saw the wounds on Spike's back clearly for the first time. Amongst a myriad of smaller nicks and cuts and abrasions, there was were three deep welts running across his back from his left shoulder blade to his right hip, one of which was cut deep into his flesh exposing his spine.

As delicately as possible, Buffy moved her arm from his shoulders to his waist to support him, flinching inwardly as she necessarily pressed against the open diagonal gash where it cut across his waist. She helped Spike down from the stone lid, taking almost all of his weight, as he put his right arm across her shoulders and tentatively put one foot in front of the other. Buffy realised that his right knee was badly damaged and could not support him but although his left leg had fared little better he could put a little weight on it.

The painful journey to the lower level took several minutes. Twice Buffy had asked Spike if he wanted to stop and rest but Spike had shaken his head with a look of grim determination on his bloodied face.

Once in the chamber below Buffy laid Spike carefully on his bed, nodding as he mumbled a grateful "Thanks, Slayer", and looked around her. The cosy room he had created for himself had all the comforts of home (but no mirror, she noted) and when her eyes alighted on a small china bowl and pitcher on a washstand in the corner of the room, she made her decision.

**TBC**

A/N: I'll try to post every other day or so but I'm throwing a 'Bard's Night' party at the weekend to celebrate Shakespeare's birth & St Georges Day so please bear with me.


	2. Chapter 2 Blood

_Summary: Buffy sees the torture Spike endured to protect her and her sister. Wracked by doubt about her calling and her coming fight with Glory she turns to Spike. Takes place at end of S5 Intervention and goes off canon from there._

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit._

_A/N: Thanks to Amunett & Twotoe for their support. Though I bow to Joss in all things, I just can't write Bitch Buffy when she's faced with such incontrovertible proof of Spike's love for her, whether she returns that sentiment or not. And after all, what's not to like about Spike?_

**Chapter 2 - Blood**

After moving the trapdoor back across the entrance to Spike's bed chamber and lighting more candles, Buffy poured some water into the bowl and grabbed a towel from the washstand. Then she sat next to Spike, dipped a corner of the towel into the bowl and started to clean the cuts on his face. Spike opened his eyes and stared in disbelief at the intent look on the Slayer's face.

Feeling some explanation was due, Buffy, without looking into the deep blue eyes that she could feel searching her face, said gently, "After what you did for me and Dawn, it's the least I can do."

Nearly an hour later Buffy had bathed all the open cuts, wrapped strips of torn sheeting to bind the broken ribs and damaged knee, and had stitched up the worst wound on Spike's back with cotton thread from a sewing kit (_'ohmygod, a vampire with a SEWING kit!'_) that Spike had indicated in a small dresser.

Turning him on to his side so as not to irritate the cut across his spine, Buffy regarded the quiet vampire, lying inert with his eyes closed, one eye now swollen almost shut. In spite of his wounds she realised that his battered face still looked noble somehow, even beautiful, and the thought would have bothered her except that she had more pressing concerns. She knew he was in a lot of pain but she had nothing she could do for him for that. He would suffer the pain until slowly his vampire healing began to mend him. Clearly that process had hardly started.

"When did you last feed?" she asked him.

"Dunno." His voice was laboured, and from his ragged, but unnecessary, breathing, she thought he was probably on the verge of lapsing into unconsciousness with the effort of the last hour.

Buffy made another decision. "Spike, sit up."

"Can't", came a barely audible response.

Buffy leaned over and tried to help him into a sitting position but soon realised that the effort was too painful for him. Without a moment's hesitation Buffy laid herself down on the bed next to Spike, whose least damaged eye flew open in alarm.

"It's okay Spike. You're safe. You need to feed before you lose consciousness." She grabbed her hair out of the way and tilted her head to give Spike access to her neck. "Feed from me," she instructed him hoarsely.

"N-no, won't. Can't make me," came the reply Buffy had half expected.

"It's my fault Glory did this to you. You can let me feel real bad about it or you can take my blood and make me feel better. I WANT you to feed from me. I WANT to repay you for what you did for me and Dawn. Please." There was an earnest look in Buffy's eyes as she looked intently at him. "Its' what I want, Spike," she whispered softly.

"But if I hurt you," Spike protested, hardly able to form the words he needed to.

"You won't. I trust you." Buffy murmured and tipped her head again. This time she was rewarded by Spike slipping into his game face. She grasped Spike's upper arms bracing herself for the pain, as Spike's razor-sharp incisors sliced into her neck.

To Buffy's great surprise, after the initial feeling of pressure on her skin, she felt only a sense of extraordinary well-being, bliss almost, as Spike pulled on her blood drinking her life-force, her power, hungrily into him. She allowed herself to relax as each pull on her blood sent tremors of near-pleasure coursing through her body and deep into her gut.

This was new to her. Angel had hurt her when he had taken her blood, although she couldn't honestly say it was all that painful. Angel had been her boyfriend; she had loved him, so she had felt a satisfied wrench, rather than outright pain, as his demon had taken great draughts of her blood.

But this with Spike was different, almost arousing. No, her mind rebelled at the thought that had sprung into her head, that this experience was thrilling, sensual even. Where had that feeling come from? This was Spike, not Angel her first love. Why should this sensation feel so right when Spike was sooo the wrong vampire?

This was Spike, the vampire who a few short weeks ago had had her chained up, threatening to set Dru on her if she didn't confess her 'true' feelings for him. Why should she feel so safe with him now, that she would put herself in this potentially fatal situation with an unsouled master vampire who, declarations of his love for her not withstanding, had regularly threatened to kill her? Buffy and commonsense clearly unmixy, she thought to herself as she allowed herself to enjoy Spike's needy pulls on her blood.

Suddenly, Spike drew back from her, licked the puncture wounds closed with his tongue, and as his one good golden eye shimmered into the deepest blue, he whispered, "Thank you, Slayer," then closed his eyes and laid his head back down on the pillow.

Buffy was startled that Spike had stopped way before she had even started to feel light-headed. Angel had drained her into unconsciousness.

She stared down at the battered features of the enigma that was Spike and, resting her head on one arm, she brought her other arm up to gently caress Spike's cheek with the back of her hand. "Sleep now, Spike," she murmured, "I'll stay to make sure you're safe. Sleep well."

It had been a traumatic day for both of them and soon they were both cocooned in the land of nod.

---------------------

Buffy awoke and was confused as to where she was at first. The cold body of the sleeping vampire in her arms quickly reminded her of reality and she noted with satisfaction that his swollen eye was now just coloured by a purple bruise, and the shallow cuts on Spike's face had all but healed over.

As she looked on the pale, sharp features of this master vampire with curiosity, she suddenly found herself staring into his vivid blue eyes. Without missing a beat, Buffy asked, "How do you feel?"

"Better, luv, thank you." Spike tried to sit up but he flinched, hissed and then cursed under his breath as a sharp pain stabbed into his back. "Think the ribs'll be okay but m'back hurts like the devil." He smiled apologetically.

"Time to feed again then," said Buffy quietly, offering him her neck again, "You need to heal."

Spike's mouth gaped, as he regarded her with a look close to horror on his face. "No way, slayer. You've done more than enough for me already."

"Stupid vampire!" Buffy retorted in a voice that, even to her, sounded way too childish. She tried a more rational, and she hoped, grown-up approach, "Look, I would have given you more the first time but you stopped too soon. So now you should have the rest of what you need to get you better. It's only fair after what you had to go through on my account." Buffy actually blushed as she remembered how he had insisted she not tell Glory about the key when he had thought she was his Buffybot.

"Buffy, luv," Spike used her given name to stress his earnestness, "You've done too much for me already. I don't know why. I'm a bad, rude man. You don't owe me anything. I had no choice. I just couldn't spill the beans on Dawn. It's not something I can help, I just won't tell; can't tell. You don't need to do this for me."

"Maybe I'm not doing this for you, but for me." Buffy bit her bottom lip and Spike, in spite of his injuries, felt a thrill run through him. "Spike, please, you need this. I need to do this."

For a fleeting moment Buffy remembered Riley, a vampire whore suckling at his wrist. And then later, in the Magic Box training room when Riley had told her, "They made me feel something, Buffy. Something I didn't even know I was missing." She shivered at the memory.

Spike saw, felt, the shiver run through her, "You don't have to do this, luv."

"No, I don't HAVE to." Buffy spoke quietly but firmly, "I WANT to do this. Please, Spike."

Sighing in resignation, he shifted his face and moved his fangs to the site of the punctures he had inflicted earlier. Just as he was about to re-open the wounds, Buffy held her hand up to stop him and quickly said, "No, not this side. Here." She moved her hair and offered the other side of her neck, the side where the scars made by Angel were still visible.

Spike's golden eyes looked at Buffy for confirmation, and seeing a tiny bowing of her head, he sunk his fangs into the scars that Angel had caused, obliterating them. He knew his grandsire had been responsible for those marks defiling Buffy's soft skin and his demon rejoiced in supplanting them.

Taking slow, deep draughts of Buffy's powerful slayer blood, Spike was in paradise. Buffy too was transported to heaven in the rapture of each pull he made on her blood. She didn't want the feeling to end and for a moment she wondered, in an idle, unconcerned way, if she would want to stop Spike if he started to drain her. They both relaxed into the heady, sensual experience that they were sharing.

All too soon for both of them, Spike was licking her wounds closed and planting small, light kisses on her neck. "God, Slayer, you're bloody marvellous, pet. Bloody marvellous!" His face was human again and his blue eyes were shining.

"And you're a hero, Spike. I don't know anyone who would have done what you did. Thank you."

"Hey, s'me who should be thanking you, Slayer. You've saved my life, luv."

"But it wouldn't have been in danger if it hadn't have been for me. I'm sorry, Spike."

"Hey, Slayer, how about we knock this mutual admiration society on the head and get a bit of shut-eye?"

To Spike's surprise Buffy nodded her agreement and snuggled up to him, wrapping her arms tightly around him. _'Bugger me,'_ he thought, _'what's all this about?'_

But he decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth and settled down to sleep in the arms of an angel.

**TBC**


	3. Chapter 3 Tea

_Summary: Buffy sees the torture Spike endured to protect her and her sister. Wracked by doubt about her calling and her coming fight with Glory she turns to Spike. Takes place at end of S5 Intervention and goes off-canon from there._

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit. I promise to return them when I've finished with them (but can I keep Spike, pretty please? I'll treat him well, sooo well!)._

**Chapter Three - Tea**

"Hello, pet," came the familiar accent as Buffy awoke and found herself staring up into those beautiful, expressive blue eyes.

"You okay?" she asked.

Spike grinned and Buffy knew all was well before he spoke. "Yeah, slayer blood and stubborn vampire takes some beating, luv."

"I'm glad," Buffy smiled back at him and started to sit up to face him.

"Only one thing though," Spike grimaced bashfully at her, "I think the stitches on my back need to come out now. Could you…..?" He trailed off looking questioningly at Buffy.

"No problemo," she chirped brightly, "Turn around."

Spike swivelled round until his back was facing her. Buffy sucked in air through her teeth as she saw the results of her handiwork.

"I'm sorry Spike," Buffy said apologetically, "But your healing powers have worked a bit too well. The stitches look like they're permanently woven into your skin. It's gonna hurt a bit taking them out."

"Yeah, well, best do it quick then."

Buffy stretched out for the sewing kit she had left on the floor by the bed and reached in for the small embroidery scissors. Cutting each stitch close to the knot she tugged quickly on the knot, ripping the thread out of the healing wound and leaving two small pin-pricks of blood where the thread had been either side of the welt. With each tug, Buffy and Spike both flinched slightly.

When all the stitches were removed, Buffy dabbed the specks of blood with the damp end of a towel and then announced, "All done!"

"Thanks, pet, I know that wasn't pleasant for you." Spike turned and smiled at the brave, formidable, fearless slayer who he had felt flinch as she removed his stitches. He rose to grab a black t-shirt and deep red button-down shirt and winced as he pulled them on.

"Hey, no big." Buffy sat down in the edge of the bed, a bit lost as to what she should do now. She knew now that Spike was well on the way to a full recovery and no longer needed her help. And she really wanted to get out of this BuffyBot get up. She should go home. But she really didn't want to leave.

She had lost track of time while she had been in Spike's crypt, something that would have normally caused her major wiggins. But being with Spike she hadn't had to worry about what time it was, or what she ought to be doing. Being here had meant not having to deal with the First Slayer's enigmatic messages, Willow's overbearing concern, Xander's petty jealousies, Anya's incessant yapping, Dawn's teenage rebellion and parental need, or all the other worldly pressures that Buffy felt cowed by.

Here, she could even forget that her mother was dead, or that Dawn was the key, or that Glory was trying to end the world by killing Dawn, or that she was actually the Slayer. She could forget all that "death is your gift" crap peddled by her sister slayer, who _really_ needed to learn to communicate better. Here, with Spike, the master vampire, who had vowed to kill her, she felt safe. _'Hey, go figure?'_ she puzzled to herself, wrinkling her brow.

As if he could hear her thoughts Spike said softly, "You don't have to go yet, y'know. Could stay here for a bit. 'Til you feel a bit more rested. I know you've got a lot on your plate just now."

Buffy turned to him will a weak smile, "Thank you, Spike, but I ought to go."

"Look, why don't I rustle us up something to eat first? You haven't eaten in a while and I'm not a bad cook, if you don't mind it microwaved. Com'om slayer, live dangerously, eat chez Spike!" He titled his head to one side and raised an eyebrow.

Buffy's smile widened as she graciously accepted Spike's invitation. "Thank you, Spike, I'd like that."

In companionable silence they made their way to the upper level, Buffy noticing that Spike limped slightly from the stiffness in his damaged knee. She realised that without her blood he would have been immobile for days unable to feed himself, making the healing process that much slower.

She remembered when she had been responsible for breaking Spike's spine and he had been confined to a wheelchair, unable to hunt and totally reliant on a crazy Dru to feed him. Not the most reliable of vampires at the best of times, Dru had been more likely to throw a tea party for Miss Edith than feed Spike and so his recovery had been slow and painful.

While Spike busied himself in the corner of the upper chamber where his fridge and microwave were located, Buffy perched on the sarcophagus and watched him, lost in thought. Seemingly out of nowhere, with a brief comment, "We're in luck: the milk's still okay," Spike produced two steaming mugs of tea. This image of a domesticated Spike struck Buffy as so at odds with everything she knew about him. She thought back to the relish with which he, the Slayer of Slayers, had described to her how he had killed two of her predecessors.

And yet Buffy did know another side of Spike. The side he liked to keep hidden. He had spent many hours chatting to her mother over hot chocolate and mini marshmallows, even bringing flowers when she died. He was fond of Dawn and helped her with her homework. He had loved Dru for a hundred years, caring for her in her insanity and forgiving her her infidelities. It was right what he'd told her and Angel that night when they were attacked in the old magic shop: "I may be love's bitch, but at least I'm man enough to admit it."

And even in his need for her slayer's blood he had only taken the barest minimum from her. He had been considerate and respectful of her even though he had been in such pain and in such need of the healing she could give him. She didn't want to think about why he had hadn't taken his opportunity to notch up a third slayer to his tally. Or why she had put herself willingly in harm's way.

The microwave pinged, bringing Buffy back from her thoughts as Spike announced, in his best 'upper crust butler' accent, "U'hem, dinner is served m'lady."

Buffy giggled as she moved over to make room on the sarcophagus for Spike and the plates he was balancing like a professional waiter. She tried not to notice the dried blood on the stone lid that Spike had been lying on earlier.

Spike deftly threw a white linen cloth on the lid between them, then set down two plates with a couple of forks rolled up in paper napkins.

"Hope veggie omelette and bagels is okay?" he asked nervously.

"Veggie omelette?" queried the slayer. "What happened to the Big Bad?"

"Hey, don't knock it 'til you try it!" Spike complained. "Vegetables keep nice in the cool here. My electric supply is a bit intermittent so I tend to use the fridge just for beer, blood and the odd carton of milk, 'though I do keep bagels in the ice box for emergencies."

"Spike, you never cease to amaze me, and this omelette is really wicked."

"That's good, yeah?" clarified Spike not sure if his culinary talents had just been insulted.

Buffy nodded with a smile as she realised just how hungry she had been.

After they had eaten, Spike made them both another mug of tea and motioned Buffy to sit in the armchair that faced a small TV. Spike went to sit on the floor leaning up against the wall of the crypt but winced as he tried to bend his damaged knee.

"Spike, sit here, I'll sit on the floor," urged Buffy.

"No pet, s'okay I'll manage," came the reply as Spike tried shifting his weight onto his good leg to try to edge down the wall to the floor.

"No, Spike, this is ridiculous. You'll rupture something. Come here!" Buffy's tone told him further argument would be futile and he begrudgingly straightened up and took the chair that Buffy had vacated. "Thanks, pet."

Buffy hesitated as she looked at the dust on the floor and wondered briefly if Spike's domestication actual stretched to vacuuming. _'That's a big 'No' then.'_

"Slayer, why don't you sit here on the arm of the chair? Save getting yer togs dirty."

The wide, flat arms of the chair looked substantial enough so Buffy nodded and hoisted herself gingerly onto one arm, leaning against the side of the back rest. Neither said anything while they sipped their teas and tried to put a meaning to the events of the last few hours.

Lost in thought, Spike was suddenly jolted back to the present when he became aware of a slight rhythmic movement to his left. Looking up he saw tears cascading down the Slayer's face as her shoulders shook with the force of the silent sobs that racked her body.

"Hey, pet," he murmured, running his hand down Buffy's arm and taking her mug from her hand, putting both their mugs on the floor beside them, "What's upset you?"

Buffy turned her head towards Spike and, as her eyes met his, she gave up the effort of trying to hold her sadness back and began sobbing loudly, her body shaking violently as the sobs tore through her.

Acting instinctively, Spike grabbed Buffy around her waist and pulled her on to his lap, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her upper arms soothingly and whispering encouragement to her to "Just let it out, luv." Her hands grabbing fistfuls of t-shirt, she leant heavily into his cool, solid chest and howled like a baby, her body in spasm with every sob that ripped through her.

It was several long minutes before Buffy's crying subdued enough for her to realise where she was. She straightened up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand and stammered softly, "I'm.. I'm s..s.. so...s.. sorry."

"Hey," Spike dipped his head to try to get her to look at him. "Nothin' to apologise for, pet. I dunno what's upset you luv, but I'm sure it's not somethin' that can't be sorted, yeah? Is there anythin' I can do?"

Buffy raised her eyes and found herself diving into pools of the deepest blue which radiated concern and seemed to strip away her reticence.

"Spike," she whispered softly, "I can't do it anymore."

"What can't you do, luv?" Spike held her gaze.

"Any of it! All of it!" Buffy moaned, slumping forward in Spike's arms.


	4. Chapter 4 Tears

_Summary: Buffy sees the torture Spike endured to protect her and her sister. Wracked by doubt about her calling and her coming fight with Glory she turns to Spike. Takes place at end of S5 Intervention and goes off-canon from there. _

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit. I promise to return them when I've finished with them (but can I keep Spike, pretty please? I'll treat him well, sooo well!)._

**Chapter Four - Tears**

"I can't keep this up anymore. I'd just got my head round never being 'normal', you know, being the Slayer, not being able to have a normal boyfriend, kids, or, …. " her voice trailed off, " … a long life."

Spike said nothing, letting her continue to unburden, but his hand began gently tracing small circular patterns over her back and his eyes shone with unshed tears for her.

"But as if that wasn't enough, every man I've ever loved has left me, I had to find my mother's dead body and now I've had to give up college. And being a parent for Dawn is difficult enough, but now I have to keep her safe from an evil, mad bitch-god who wants to use her to end the world. A god! I can't defeat a god!" A sob caught in her throat.

"Then I go to the desert with Giles to learn more about my destiny and the First Slayer just talks in riddles like I'm supposed to know what she's on about. And my friends want to tell me what to do all the time and they expect me to just deal with everything. Well, I can't anymore, I just can't!" Buffy's voice was shrill as she finished her rant, slumping against Spike's chest again, sobs shuddering through her body, tears and snot dripping onto Spike's already damp t-shirt.

For several minutes Buffy sobbed quietly while Spike' rubbed her back in silence, Buffy too exhausted to speak and Spike too overwhelmed by his emotions to trust his voice.

At length Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath and said gently, "You're wrong you know, Slayer."

At Buffy's questioning look, he continued softly, "You CAN defeat Glory. And you will. I know it doesn't seem like you can but I know you, I know what you are capable of, Slayer. Glory doesn't stand a chance against you."

"I wish I could believe you Spike," Buffy mumbled despondently.

"You will, He replied, with more confidence than he felt. "But for now you don't have to do anything. You can stay here as long as you like and have a break from everything 'til we can sort out what to do."

"But I can't, I have to go home, I've got Dawn to look after and Giles expects me to plan to take down Glory and the others will expect me back and…." She fell silent as Spike pressed a finger lightly to her lips.

"Shhh. All that will wait. Might do 'em good not to rely on you for everything for once. Red and her mate'll look out for Niblet. Just stay here for a bit, Slayer and have a rest: you obviously need one."

Buffy nodded, not quite knowing what to make of her changing relationship with this evil, self-proclaimed Big Bad, master vampire. How long ago was it that they were both determined to kill each other? But they could never quite manage to take their fights to the logical conclusion for a Vampire Slayer and a vampire Slayer of Slayers. Had they ever really intended to use lethal force, or was it just a ritual dance?

Then her mother died and suddenly they are both grieving for her. And Dawn was spending more time with Spike and it should have worried her but it didn't because she knew Spike would never let anything happen to Dawn. Hadn't he just proved that beyond any doubt by taking the torture that Glory had inflicted on him without revealing Dawn's secret? She had so much to thank Spike for and now he was offering her sanctuary.

Buffy's thoughts were interrupted by Spike moving her off his lap, saying, "Niblet's on her way here. I can sense her. She's back from school. Pop below and I'll talk to her."

Buffy nodded silently again and made her way to the opening to the lower level.

"It'll be okay, Buffy, luv. You'll see." Spike said as he moved to open the crypt door to the Slayer's sister.

_He called me 'Buffy'_, she realised with surprise, as she disappeared down the ladder into the chamber below, feeling a gentle warmth come over her at his informality.

Spike stepped outside the crypt into the shade that the wall of the crypt provided from the last rays of the setting sun and shut the door before speaking to Dawn so that Buffy couldn't hear. It wasn't that he was going to say anything Buffy wouldn't want him to say but she didn't need to hear a commentary on her problems just now.

Meanwhile Buffy slumped on to Spike's bed where Spike found her a few minutes later. "Why don't you get some more rest Buffy, luv?" he murmured, standing close beside her, "We can talk some more later but you're worn out now."

Buffy half smiled at him, then bit her lip before she asked quietly, "Spike? Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?"

He answered with a question of his own; "Why did you help me, luv? You could have just as well of staked me when you had the chance. It's your calling, pet. I know that. Wouldn't have faulted you for it. But you didn't just help me. You gave your blood to me. Without it I couldn't have healed enough to feed. You didn't need to do that."

Buffy raised her head to lose herself in his gaze. "You protected Dawn," she stated simply. "You didn't need to do that."

"It's all I could do, luv," he replied frankly, "Com'on, get some sleep for an hour or so." He held the covers for her as Buffy slipped under them, melting into the comfort of the bed. Before Spike had made his way back to the upper level the Slayer was sound asleep.

----------------

Spike descended the ladder with a mug of piping hot tea in his hand. Buffy was just rousing herself and took the tea he offered gladly, whispering her thanks.

After a couple of sips of the calming brew, she smiled, "You can tell you're British by the amount of tea you drink."

"English, luv" he grimaced, "I don' like to be lumped with the Celts. M'not like Peaches. Saxon stock, me."

"Jeez, fussy much?" Buffy laughed. Spike smiled from ear to ear.

Then, as if dismayed at her laughter given the serious situation that existed both outside and inside the crypt, Buffy's eyes clouded over and her bottom lip trembled. "What am I gonna do?"

"You're gonna have your tea and bloody enjoy it!" Spike stated emphatically. "Then you're gonna take a bit of a break from all that Glory stuff before we decide what to do next. There's nothing that won' keep and Dawn knows you're here in case of emergencies. Mind, she's telling the Scoobies that you've gone away for a bit to recuperate. An' she's bought over some clothes an' stuff for you, too. You can stay here as long as you like, pet. No strings."

That was all Buffy needed to collapse into another crying fit as her eyes brimmed with yet more tears. She put her mug on the nightstand and covered her face with her hands as she shook with the force of her sobs again.

"Hey, don' cry, pet," Spike said soothingly, sitting beside her and wrapping his arms protectively round her small frame. "It'll all be okay. As me ol' mum used t'say, 'it'll all come out in the wash'. Don' be frettin' now."

When Buffy wailed and pushed herself against his chest, Spike felt something spasm deep inside his chest, as if he had a heart to skip a beat. To distract himself from analysing this new feeling he quipped, "Hey, pet, steady on. You've already made one t-shirt soggy. I ain't got that many left!"

Buffy sniffed loudly and straightened up, stopping her tears with no little effort, and pulling a Kleenex from her pocket to wipe her eyes and nose. "I'm sorry, didn't mean to ruin your shirt. And I must look a fright, all puffy eyes and runny nose and…"

Spike stopped her by lifting her chin so that he could look her full in the face. "There ain't a more beautiful sight in all the world." He took a chance and brought his lips down to meet hers.

To his surprise, and to hers, Buffy's lips parted as she surrendered to his kiss.

What started off tentatively, almost chaste, became amorous then passionate as they both found what they had needed for so long.

Spike was the first to break away from their kiss. "I'm sorry luv. That was wrong of me. I said no strings and I meant it. Why don't you come on up stairs and we can watch a bit of telly. Unless you like cards?" He added hopefully.

Buffy decide to ignore what had just happened, as in all honesty, she didn't quite understand her feelings towards Spike just now. Instead she decided to stick with a safe topic, "Cards sounds good as long as you remember that cheating is a staking offence."

"Hey, I don' cheat!" replied Spike as they climbed the ladder to the upper level, grateful that Buffy had not commented on their kiss.

"Owww, pleeeease!" Buffy rolled her eyes dramatically, throwing herself on to the easy chair. "I remember a certain game of kitten poker."

"That's not fair," he protested as he rummaged in a drawer for his deck of cards. "I wanted to win to save the kitties. It was a noble thing to do. Can't really call that cheating."

"That's sooo not true! You were gonna cash in the kittens for whisky and cigarettes."

Spike smirked, "Guilty as charged, m'lord."

Buffy started to laugh again and Spike beamed at her. Spike threw the deck of cards towards Buffy, which she deftly caught, as he instructed, "You shuffle, luv."

Spike dragged two wooden cartons across the floor, setting one on its side as a card table and placing a folded blanket on the other to serve as a stool for him to sit on.

Buffy shuffled the pack with the dexterity of a Mississippi card-sharp and began to deal as they both settled down to beat the other in a battle neither intended to back down from.


	5. Chapter 5 Patrol

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit._

**Chapter Five - Patrol**

Much later, after Buffy found the ace of hearts in the cuff of Spike's shirt, they agreed to call the tournament a draw. Then, after an unsuccessful attempt to find anything they could both agree on to watch on the TV, Spike suggested a quick patrol.

"We've been cooped up in here, and I reckon we both need to let off steam a bit. You game?"

"How's the knee?" Buffy asked, remembering how badly damaged it had been.

"Good as new, thanks to a certain slayer I know!" and he winked at her conspiratorially. "So, you up for a quick circuit of the cemetery?"

In truth, Buffy desperately wanted to get back to the routine of a good old-fashioned patrol although she was nervous about leaving the haven of Spike's crypt. But she couldn't bring herself to admit that so she nodded in agreement and the unlikely tag team headed out into the cemetery.

Within half an hour three fledglings had appeared. One was dressed in blue overalls like a motor mechanic and Buffy briefly wondered who he had pissed off so badly to get buried in his work clothes. The other two were dressed in smart formal dress suits, but as one was tall and slender and the other was shorter than Buffy and rather rotund, the overall effect was comical rather than elegant.

Buffy and Spike leapt, almost joyously, into the attack, he springing to the left, she to the right.

Spike slipped into his game face as he reached the taller fledgling, causing the newly risen vampire to hesitate, not understanding why another vampire should be attacking him. This was all Spike needed to bring the fledging to the ground with a fist to the face, followed by a knee to the same spot as the vampire crumpled. A kick, this time to the ribs caused a howl of pain from the floored vampire as he struggled to move away from Spike's steel toe-capped Doc Martens.

Meanwhile, Buffy had jumped towards the shortest vampire, kicking him hard in his gut, as she connected her fist to his jaw with the full force of her slayer powers, causing him to slump to the floor with a gasp that sounded like he was winded, had he been breathing.

"Take a seat," Buffy called over to the mechanic as she focused on the prone demon in front of her, "We'll be with you as soon as we've seen to Laurel and Hardy here."

The mechanic, caught between these two dervishes, looked in vain for an escape route, and seeing none, he decided the girl was an easier target than a vamped out psycho. He dove forward intending to grab Buffy's legs to bring her down. But Buffy had seen him. Just before he made contact she leapt again, rolling her eyes, mumbling, "Impatient much?" and bringing one booted foot to crack the short vampire's ribs, turning in mid air to bring her other boot smacking down on the mechanic's skull. Whilst the outcome was violent and sickening, the execution was fluid and controlled with all the grace and beauty of a well-choreographed dance.

Spike had wanted more action from his fledgling but when it was obvious that all he was going to do was whimper and try to crawl away, he lost patience and pulled out a stake, plunging it through his back and into his heart. Without waiting for the dust to settle Spike had turned, knowing instinctively where his opponents and his ally were, and leapt onto the sprawling mechanic, wrenching his head off with a satisfying ripping sound, at the exact same moment that Buffy drove her stake into the crouching form of the short fledgling.

"Awww," moaned Buffy as the dust drifted to their feet. "That was no fun. They didn't want to fight back."

"Fledglings rarely give a good fight," Spike reflected, "Too new to know how to handle themselves. Com'on, the night is yet young."

They walked amiably in silence, hoping to find something worthy of their skills and expertise.

Suddenly, Spike reached out, grabbing Buffy's upper arm and signalling to her to be quiet. Pulling her against the side wall of a family tomb, he whispered, so only she could hear, "Demon ahead," and inclined his head in the direction of the front of the tomb they were sheltering against. Buffy nodded her understanding.

Buffy motioned Spike to circle round the back of the tomb and indicated that she would move forward on her side. Spike gave her a brief nod of agreement and disappeared round the back of the tomb.

Buffy stepped away from the tomb wall and sauntered to the clearing by the tomb entrance. As she rounded the corner she stopped abruptly to face a well-built, seven-foot tall purple _(purple?)_ demon with scales and a tail, looking for all the world like a large children's stuffed dinosaur or dragon.

_'Barney?_' Buffy thought to herself. To the dragon she said, "Hey, one dragon, one maiden, all we need is a handsome prince and we've got ourselves a fairytale!"

The dragon gave no indication of understanding anything other than 'me dragon, you food', and moved aggressively towards Buffy snarling and slashing the air with its front talons.

"How rude!" Buffy complained, as she scissor-kicked to the side of the dragon's drooling jaw. The kick appeared to have no effect other than to make the dragon more agitated. Buffy swung her fists to pound, one-two, to the side of its temple, but found herself yelping in pain as her fists met scaly flesh with the strength of hardened steel plates. Another kick, this time to its belly, all the while dodging its flailing talons, resulted in sore toes for Buffy, "Aww, my boots are all scuffed!" and an even angrier foe.

As Buffy prepared for another attack, Spike came around the far side of the tomb and launched himself at the back of the dragon to deliver a deadly head twist.

"Hey, the handsome prince has arrived!" Buffy quipped, as she tried to thrust her stake towards the dragon's chest while it was distracted by Spike, who was smirking at having just been called 'handsome' by the Slayer. Buffy's stake hit its mark but the steel-plated skin didn't even give, sending the stake flying out of Buffy's hand with the force of her attack.

Spike's assault was no more successful, thwarted as it was by the dragon's powerful neck muscles and razor-sharp spiny dorsal plates that ran down the length of its backbone. He could only pound the side of its head with his fist before dropping to the ground and dodging its lashing tail.

Spike's shout of "Toes!" caused Buffy to jump sideways just as the creature raised its left foot to slice Buffy with its rear claws, balancing, as it did so, on its right foot and tail. Spike drew a knife from down the side of his Doc Martens and gouged a dorsal plate from its tail that was pressed flat to the floor. Green goo seeped from the wound and the bottom edge of the plate that Spike was now holding. The dragon snarled more deeply and bought its left foot down as it tried to turn towards Spike.

"Buffy!" Spike yelled as he threw the dripping plate to her. She caught it wielding it like a large razor blade. "Go for its throat!" yelled Spike again, as he ducked back to avoid the wounded tail that was whipping towards him.

As the creature was still turning to face the assailant responsible for the damage to its tail, Buffy shot forward and slashed the sharp dorsal plate across the dragon's throat, nearly decapitating it. The beast began to fall backwards when there was an audible 'pop' and the dragon disappeared, including the part of its tail that Buffy had been holding.

Stunned, Buffy looked at the empty space in front of her. "That shouldn't happen. Demons don't dust."

"Din't dust. Wasn't yer average demon, luv," Spike informed her. Must 'ave been some kinda creature from another dimension. Killing it just sent it back to its own dimension. Sorta dimensional balance thingy."

"Oh!" was all Buffy could think to say.

"Think it may have somethin' to do with Glory meddlin' with dimensions. What next, the Cookie Monster?"

"Aww, that dates you!" sniggered Buffy, eager not to dwell on the "G" being.

"Never denied me age, pet., but perhaps I should have said 'Teletubby' so's kiddies like you would understand the reference."

"Oi, I'm not a kid, you … you … pensioner you!"

"Ouch, that hurt," Spike laughed.

As they continued their patrol scanning the cemetery for potential combatants, they chatted quietly about music they liked. Spike told Buffy how he had attended the premiere of Stravinsky's 'Rite of Spring' in Paris in 1913 and how the audience had rioted. Buffy had never heard of the piece but was suitably impressed at the idea of a riot.

Spike entertained her with tales of jitterbugging, boogie-woogie and early rock 'n' roll. He fondly recalled feeding frenzies during Beatlemania and rich pickings at open-air concerts. He admitted to being a bit vague about the late sixties due to the acid-doped blood he had indulged in. He spat at the memory of glam rock and mumbled something about bands getting to big for their boots.

Buffy told Spike how she had asked her mother if she could go to a rock concert in LA which her father had offered to pay for (because he couldn't make it to take her to the ice show on her birthday) and her mother had flipped and refused to let her go. Buffy rolled her eyes and complained that she could put her life on the line each night fighting vampires and demons, but clearly the evils of a rock concert were far greater.

Spike agreed saying he'd had the misfortune of seeing Billy Joel in concert ("Peaches insisted") and that was worse than evil. He wasn't complimentary about 'Queen' either. Buffy protested, but Spike insisted that when he'd seen 'Queen' in Dublin in 1980, the supporting act, the London band 'Squeeze', were far better and the concert-goers had left the stadium singing the 'Squeeze' numbers, rather than the 'Queen' repertoire.

"Mind you, you'd go a long way to beat the original Ultravox line-up at the Marquee. Bloody raw power leapt off John Foxx. Course, best bloody band I ever saw, after the Pistols and the Ramones, was U2, before they made it big. They went downhill after Red Rock."

Buffy couldn't keep up with Spike's encyclopaedic knowledge of modern music ('modern' as in anything since the 1920's) so she turned the conversation to a discussion of movies they had enjoyed. Bizarrely, they discovered that they both liked 'Reservoir Dogs', 'Pulp Fiction' and the 'Terminator' movies, Spike commenting with conviction that, "Sarah Connor's some feisty bird". Buffy was exceedingly grateful that Spike loathed Star Wars, because she had been bored rigid by Xander going on about Darth this and Chew that, or whatever.

Spike made Buffy promise that she would watch 'Name of the Rose' when she next had the chance because he said it was a well crafted, well acted, intelligent film that deserved better recognition. Buffy wondered if that was Spike-speak for boring but made a mental note to rent the video anyway. Spike also told her that his small part in 'Nosferatu' had never made it to the finished movie having ended up on the cutting room floor, but Buffy was convinced he was pulling her leg.

During the next couple of hours they only saw two more fledglings, which they dusted with ease, but they were both enjoying each other's company as they wandered in and out of the headstones and mausoleums, having stayed out much longer than they had intended. Neither mentioned the kiss they had shared back in Spike's crypt, both needing time to understand what it had meant to them, if anything.

At length, Spike, with an eye for the coming dawn, suggested, "Com'on, luv, how about we head back now? We won't find anything more to dust at this hour. D'you fancy some chocolate chip cookies?"

"You have chocolate chip cookies?" an incredulous, and impressed, slayer asked.

The pair of them set off for Spike's crypt, in a happier mood than they had set out.


	6. Chapter 6 Pyjamas

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit._

**Chapter Six - Pyjamas**

Back in the crypt Spike set about making a coffee for them both and producing the promised chocolate chip cookies.

Buffy settled in the armchair, while Spike sat on the arm, as she had done earlier, to watch a late night (well, early morning) horror flick, which had them both in stitches with poor acting, poorer scenery and a lamentable plethora of inaccuracies. Just before the credits rolled, the vampire 'hero' of the story was seen stalking off down a dark alley, showing his reflection in a waterlogged gulley running along the middle of the alley. At the vampire with the unintentional reflection, Buffy and Spike collapsed into fits of giggles that convulsed them as if they had never laughed before.

Buffy was laughing so hard she thought she was in danger of peeing her pants and Spike laughed so much he lost his balance and fell into Buffy's lap. There was a brief moment of shocked silence before the giggles broke out even louder as they both fell on to the floor in hysterics, tears rolling down their cheeks, gasping for breath (even though purely out of habit in one case) and clutching their sides in agony.

As the giggles subsided they looked at each other, sprawled on the floor, and Buffy said quietly, "Thank you, Spike."

"What for, luv?" he asked raising his scarred eyebrow quizzically

"For making me laugh. I haven't laughed like that for, well, since I became the Slayer, I guess." She smiled shyly.

Her words would have pierced his beating heart, had he had one, as he felt pain for her lost childhood, her lost innocence. But he had no words to make things better for her so instead he said:

"It's late, luv. Why don't you get some shut-eye?"

Although 'late' in this case actually meant early, as the sun was about to rise, Buffy nodded, suddenly realising how tired she still was.

Spike stood up. "You toddle off to bed, pet," he continued, "and I'll sleep here on the sarcophagus."

Buffy took a deep breath and made another decision. "You don't have to sleep up here, Spike. We could … share the bed. Like earlier. Just to sleep," she clarified.

"You sure you're okay with that, luv," Spike asked, hardly believing what she had said, even if it was 'just to sleep'.

"I'd like you to," Buffy answered quietly, "Please?"

He nodded and handed her a sports bag she recognised, "Niblet dropped off some of your clothes and stuff for you earlier. You nip down and give me a shout when you're ready, okay?"

"Yep, okay," agreed Buffy as she headed to the ladder. Once below she opened her sports bag and rummaged for her nightclothes, grateful to be able to get out of her BuffyBot costume. She groaned when she realised her 'helpful' little sister had packed her sexiest pyjamas, the ones Cordelia had bullied her into buying on a shopping trip a while back.

They were black silk with deep black lace borders set in to the bottom of the camisole top and the bottom of the legs of the pants. Red ribbon was threaded through the lace insets, decorated the edge of the deep neckline and formed the spaghetti straps of the camisole. It was completely NOT what Buffy felt comfortable in when sleeping next to a vampire in a crypt, even if black and red seemed rather apt. But as Dawn hadn't packed anything more serviceable, Buffy had to make do with it, making a mental note to strangle Dawn when she next saw her.

When she was safely tucked up in bed, the covers pulled tightly up to her neck, she called up to Spike to let him know she was ready.

Spike climbed down the ladder and extinguished the various candles that had provided the only light in the lower level. He removed his shirt and t-shirt before slipping into bed alongside Buffy, the darkness not an impediment to his enhanced vampire eyesight. "G'night, luv," he murmured.

"Goodnight, Spike." Buffy replied softly. Then, "Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"Will you ….will you hold me, please? Just hold me?" Buffy's request was tentative and hesitant.

Spike moved across, wrapping his arms around Buffy and drawing her to him. He raised an eyebrow as he touched silk and lace. She snuggled up against his chill, smooth, firm chest and breathed, "Thank you."

And then Spike thought he felt her lips pressing a kiss against his chest. If he was given absolution now he could expect no more from heaven itself.

----------------

They woke together just after midday, still entwined in each others arms.

"Morning, luv. Fancy a cuppa?"

"Morning. A cup of what?"

"A cuppa. A cup of tea, silly!"

"A cuppa coffee would be of the good."

"Okay, you Philistine, coffee it is. Shower's through there," Spike indicated towards the back of the chamber, "Come up when you're ready."

He pulled his t-shirt on and disappeared up the ladder to the upper level.

A short while later vampire and slayer were sitting nursing mugs of coffee while Spike warmed up croissants and pain au chocolate courtesy of the groceries Clem had dropped off the day before, at Spike's request via Dawn.

"So," Spike began as he placed a plate full of warm pastries on the sarcophagus lid to join the unsalted butter and strawberry preserve. "We need to talk about Glory."

"Do we have to ruin a perfectly enjoyable breakfast, um, brunch, whatever, with that hell-bitch?" moaned Buffy, stuffing a corner of croissant into her mouth.

"You like my breakfasts do you, Slayer?" Spike asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow.

"Might do. What's it to you?" she replied, smirking back.

"Well, it's nice to know when I'm appreciated, is all."

Buffy looked down at the paper napkin that served as her plate. "I appreciate you, Spike," she said softly.

Spike put his hand lightly on her arm briefly. "Thanks, luv."

After a moment of silence, during which both Buffy and Spike wanted to say something meaningful but couldn't quite find the courage, Spike continued:

"So, Glory. What d'you reckon?"

------------

Several hours, and several cups of tea (at Spike's insistence) later, Buffy and Spike had discussed every angle of the inevitable showdown with Glory and all they had managed to agree was that they should take the fight to Glory, rather than wait for her to decide the time and place to do battle.

Buffy was set on finding a way to defeat Glory through greater strength, when in reality she knew that a god would always trump a slayer in the power stakes. To Buffy's surprise Spike was much more focused on developing a strategy for overcoming Glory that didn't rely on a contest of brute force, which, whilst he wouldn't say anything, he knew, even with him fighting by her side, Buffy would lose.

Just as they were about to abandon their weary and so far fruitless attempt at battle planning, Spike jumped up as if struck by a shaft of sunlight.

"I've got it!" He beamed from ear to ear, pulled Buffy off of the sarcophagus they were using as their campaign table and swung her around in his arms. "I know how we can pull this off!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "Dunno why I didn't think of it before. It's bloody perfect!"

He set Buffy down and gazed into her eyes, "I told you you'd beat her."

"Hey, we haven't beaten her yet, so don't start counting your ducklings yet Mister. What did you have in mind?" Buffy was smiling.

"Well, I have a mate who deals in dodgy goods," he began, stopping as Buffy rolled her eyes. "You know what, luv," he said easily, "Let's just say I need to go out as soon as the sun sets and I'll fetch back what we need to bring that skanky god of bad home perms to her just reward. Then we'll need to go out on patrol to find the Cookie Monster."

"You mean that purple dinosaur-dragon thing we fought yesterday, er, well, this morning actually. Anyway, we killed it and it went 'poof' back to where it came from so I don't think that's gonna help us." Buffy frowned.

"Not the purple spiny sourpuss, pet. We need to track us another inter-dimensional creature tonight. There'll be more than one roamin' around, mark my words. We just need to find one, okay?"

"Okay!" agreed Buffy, but she was very confused and not at all convinced that Spike hadn't just lost the plot.

As neither of them could do anything about the Glory situation until nightfall, the two warriors set about making a 'bacon butty' each (hot ham roll with red or brown sauce - red for Buffy, brown for Spike) and chatted about nothing in particular, just enjoying each other's company and not having to think about coming battles.

After they had eaten and they were lolling on the easy chair, Spike perched on the arm, their conversation turned to the vexed question of the Scoobies. Buffy explained how, as much as she loved them all dearly, she felt put upon by them. She felt they expected too much from her, to keep them safe, to always know how to defeat the enemy and to always do the 'right' thing, even if it didn't feel 'right' to her.

"It's like they put me on a pedestal I don't deserve and then are disappointed in me when I fall off it," Buffy moaned.

"Sound's to me like they can't put you on that pedestal unless you let them, luv," Spike offered.

"I don't understand."

"Well, seems to me that your mates can only have the sort of power over you to make you feel bad about yourself if you let 'em, luv. You feel bad because you think they expect too much of you and you let them down. But isn't it that YOU expect too much of YOURSELF and then feel bad when you don't come up to your own exacting standards?

"If you could ease off on yourself a bit you'd see what a bloody marvellous job you do and you wouldn't let your friends opinions weigh so heavily on you. If they're wrong you would pay them no heed, knowing you had done a stand up job, but if you thought they were right you wouldn't bleeding worry about it, just take it on board for next time. Make sense?" Spike cocked his head on one side.

"Yeah, I think I see what you're saying," conceded Buffy, "But how'd you get so insightful all of a sudden?"

"Over a century of observing human nature doesn't exactly count as 'all of a sudden', pet. But it seems to me that people can only have power over you if you give them that power. You're a very powerful, courageous and intelligent woman, Buffy, don't let others take your power by default."

In spite of herself, Buffy felt her cheeks flush and she dipped her head to avoid meeting Spike's earnest, piercing blue eyes.

Spike placed a finger under her chin and lifted her head so that she was looking at him. He spoke quietly but with conviction: "And what you said earlier about people leaving you, luv. You need to know that I will never leave you. All the time you want me around, I'll be there, promise." He dipped down to place a brief kiss on Buffy's forehead, then, not trusting himself any further, he jumped up and asked brightly, " 'Nother cuppa, pet?"

-----------------------

The rest of the afternoon was spent in arguing over what to watch on the TV and then wrestling over the remote. When their tussling threatened to turn into something a little more arousing, they both backed off and settled down to watch a re-run of a cop show both had seen before.

Later, as the sun was barely setting, Spike set off to see his mysterious 'friend' (_'fence' more like_, thought Buffy) saying he wouldn't be long. Buffy sat back in the easy chair, her feet propped on one of the wooden crates and began to mull over what had happened to her in the last few days.

About forty minutes later Buffy roused herself from her ruminations as she heard Spike returning. He had a triumphant smile on his face as he announced with undisguised glee, "Got 'em!"

"Whatcha got then? Let's see."


	7. Chapter 7 Trap

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit. _

_A/N: I know the reference to kitten poker in Chapter 4 is out of sequence, but it's such a lovely image I couldn't resist! Please forgive me for taking liberties with canon, but I only go where my muse takes me. _

**Chapter Seven - Trap**

Spike took out a small brown paper bag from the pocket of his duster and tipped the contents onto the flat top of the sarcophagus. Two identical pendants fell out. Marbled creamy-brown stones, about the size of a thumb nail were set in delicate metal cages and suspended on fine silver chains.

Buffy's face fell, "So now we're wearing matching jewellery? How's that gonna defeat Glory? What, she'll think it's so tacky she'll run away screaming? Kinda doubt it with her track record of cheap and nasty."

"Yeah, that skanky bint is the Queen of Vulgarity. But, no," Spike rolled his eyes, "These are not for us to wear. I thought you might realise by now that my taste is a bit more sophisticated than matching Kargip stones."

"Yeah, sophisticated, that's the word for the dated punk-goth thing you've got going for you there, granddad," Buffy sneered playfully. "Anyhow, make with the 'splainy."

"Okay, you bleeding fashion victim you: these necklaces are like powerful magnets."

Buffy picked one up and inspected it. "Looks like marble to me; doesn't feel like a magnet."

"That's because it's not a regular kinda magnet. It's a special sort that brings the people who wear the necklaces together."

Buffy gave Spike her best furrowed brow look and he continued, "Okay, say two people each have one of these pendants. They become separated and want to see one another again. They both put these on and 'abracadabra', they're together again."

"Do they have to say 'abracadabra'? 'Cause it sounds a bit corny and it might be difficult to get someone to say it against their will, or if they don't speak English, or …"

"Like you, you mean? No, they don't have to say 'abracadabra'. It's just a bloody figure of speech, you blond bint. They just have to put the necklaces on and want to be together. The Kargip stone does the rest," Spike explained, not as patiently as he might have.

"So how does that help us with Glory?"

"Well," said Spike grandly, "I have a cunning plan! I'm going to present a god with a small token of my esteem. But first we need to capture us a Cookie Monster!"

----------------

It was dark now so Buffy and Spike headed out in search of another inter-dimensional creature. A couple of fledglings, leaning against a tree comparing their brief after-life experiences were no match for the slayer/vampire tag team and they made short work of an even shorter troll who they literally tripped over.

Then, just a Spike was beginning to worry that they would ever find what they were looking for, they both stopped dead at the sound of a grating roar. Running forward with glee they were just in time to see a fledgling dust as his head came off in the mouth of an overgrown teddy bear _('teddy bear?!')_.

The giant toy had golden curly fur, cute round ears, huge saucer eyes, and enough teeth in its mouth to give Jaws a run for his money.

"It's … it's a teddy," breathed Buffy incredulously.

"Yep, guess Glory's messin' with some toy dimension." Spike replied, mildly surprised, but unfazed by the sight of a giant carnivorous children's soft toy.

Spike, continued softly, "We want it alive. Drive it back towards the old Espenson mausoleum."

Though she couldn't figure out what Spike was up to, Buffy nodded her ascent as they both moved to the left of the creature.

The bear, still spitting vamp dust from its vicious-looking snout, sensed their arrival and stopped looking for the remains of its last victim to snarl at the two new sources of food.

Spike ran up and landed a drop kick in the middle of its chest, pushing it backwards. Buffy aimed her kick at its jaw, connecting as Spike came back with a punch to its throat. Buffy's double kick to its belly was followed by a left hook to its jaw from Spike while his right fist slammed into the bear's side.

Buffy and Spike fought in concert; one blow delivered, the other struck, as the first attacker prepared the next assault. The blows and kicks flowed with balletic grace and precision, and with brutal force.

The bear snarled but was seemingly unable to defend itself. Its paws were too big and unwieldy to pose much of a threat to the skilled warriors that it faced. Its teeth, whilst plentiful and dangerously sharp, were only useful if it could get its snout near enough to bite, something Buffy and Spike were assiduously avoiding.

The fledgling had been easy prey for the bear, being slow, unsure of his own powers and being rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in headlights, by the unimaginable sight of a huge killer teddy bear.

Buffy and Spike had no such hang-ups and were quickly pushing the stunned bear back towards the Espenson mausoleum. Once there, Buffy could see that Spike had prepared the tomb earlier. The iron gates were propped open and a large padlock hung in readiness from a crossbar.

By now the giant bear was losing its footing as it tried to keep upright under the barrage of blows. The Slayer and vampire eased back, not wanting to topple the creature until it could be driven into the trap Spike had set.

Taking several paces backwards in an effort to regain its balance, the bear placed itself directly in front of the mausoleum entrance. A scissor-kick from Buffy pushed it into the tomb as Spike clanged the gates and padlocked them.

Turning, the victors leapt and high-fived in jubilation, both grinning like Cheshire Cats.

"Wow, that was fun! Can we do it again, huh?" Buffy trilled.

"Another day, pet," Spike beamed at Buffy's enthusiasm. "We still have business to take care of. And, erm, I need you to do something for me." Spike wasn't quite sure how to broach the next phase of his 'cunning plan' with Buffy.

He pulled her to him, gripping her upper arms, and asked her, "Do you trust me, Buffy?"

"Yes," came her whispered response, without hesitation.

"Okay, I need you to stay with Edward here," indicating the caged, and now puzzled and immobile, bear.

Buffy nodded.

"I'll be back in a wee while with Glory," there was a sharp intake of breath from Buffy, "and I need you to handcuff yourself to the gate before I get here with her. Its okay, they're fake 'cuffs; they don't actually lock, just look like they do."

Looking towards the tomb she saw a pair of handcuffs hanging from the far edge of the one of the gates. She nodded again, though she didn't understand what Spike intended.

"Then I need you to ignore everything I say to Glory. Can you do that for me?" Buffy nodded again, confused by his serious demeanour and inexplicable instructions.

"Ignore whatever I say until I shout 'NOW', then unlock the cage as fast as you can and throw this," he dropped one of the Kargip necklaces into her palm, "round any part of the bear. You'll never get it round its neck so go for its paw or over its ear. Just so long as it's around the bear, and you're not holding it. Then you know what to do?" Spike drew the knife from his Doc Martens and handed it to her. "You must kill it AFTER you put the necklace on it, okay?"

He glanced over briefly at the bear which was now leaning against the back wall of the tomb sitting, inert, in typical teddy bear pose, looking like an enormous fairground prize.

Buffy gazed into the intense blue eyes that were now staring into her with such earnestness and said quietly, with every bit of conviction she could muster, "Yes, Spike, I understand."

"Good. Look, I gotta go now. But I need to know you will take no notice of anything you hear me say. Please, luv, I need to know that you won't pay me any heed."

"Yes. I trust you, Spike."

Spike bought his lips down to crush hers with fervour, and then he was gone, striding across the cemetery, his iconic duster billowing out behind him as he stalked into the night.

Alone with her thoughts Buffy reviewed what had just happened. She thought she got the gist of Spike's plan and she wasn't concerned about killing the monster bear, but that wasn't what she was pondering. She was intrigued by Spike's request for her to pay no attention to whatever he said, but more than that, she was wondering about her relationship with Spike.

She knew she felt something for him, but she couldn't, or wouldn't, put a name to the feeling. Over the last two days she had put herself totally at his mercy; she had trusted him with her life. She wasn't sure why.

She knew well enough the reasons not to trust him. He was a master vampire; a slayer of slayers; a former quarter of the Scourge of Europe, ruthless and cruel; a powerful and cunning foe, who had frequently threatened to kill her.

He had survived for over one hundred years by draining humans of every drop of their blood. His partner during this killing spree was a looney-tunes crazy skanky 'ho who led him into all kinds of debauchery.

Plus, his recent dalliance with the BuffyBot was just too weird and sooo gross. She should be insulted by his perversion, but strangely she wasn't. In fact, in spite of herself, she felt kind of flattered, in a creepy, 'ewww' sort of way. And perhaps a bit curious too.

She knew he didn't kill humans anymore, well thanks to the chip in his head. But, when she thought about it, he could still get minions to do his killing for him but he hadn't.

And he had done so much for Dawn; for her.

And in these last couple of days she had felt, …. what was it? She had felt loved. Yes, she felt loved, cherished, respected. More than that, Spike treated her as an equal; they went into battle as matched warriors, he comforted her and allowed her to comfort him, in arguments he didn't oppose, endure or acquiesce simply because she was the Slayer or female.

She hadn't enjoyed such equality before, even from her boyfriends. Angel had treated her like a piece of precious china, making decisions for her, and Riley expected her to do what he told her and couldn't cope with a woman who stood up to him (or who was stronger than him).

When Spike had first professed his love for her she was offended, annoyed, grossed out and, frankly, she didn't believe him.

But now? Yes, now she believed him. She wanted to believe him, too. She wanted his love. She couldn't rationalize it but she felt it deeply.

Did that mean she was falling for the blonde vampire with the high cheekbones, chiselled good looks and lithe, fit body?

"Oh god," she groaned, pushing hers hands through her hair. Then she heard the noise of something approaching, and she fastened the handcuffs around her wrists.

---------------

She heard them first. Glory's annoying, slightly nasal voice carried effortlessly across the still cemetery. "My Jimmy Choos are ruined! This better not be a wild goose chase or I'll make you sooo sorry vampire, you'll wish you were Murk."

"Oh thank you, your Delightful Wonderfulness, it would be such an honour to be a worthy example of excruciating punishment …."

"Shut up Murk!"

Then the strange entourage entered the clearing in front to the Espenson mausoleum to which Buffy was handcuffed. Glory, surrounded by her sackcloth minions, was sporting a gold satin cocktail dress, which, apart from being inappropriate for a night-time raid on a cemetery, appeared to be at least one size too small for her. Around Glory's neck Buffy could see the matching Kargip necklace bouncing above the deep cleavage that the dress accentuated.

Glory's matching sandals were muddied, and she swayed precariously as she picked her way between the soft earth above the burials and the strips of firmer ground surrounding them. Spike swaggered confidently alongside Glory and Buffy felt her pulse quicken at the sight of him.

"Well, hello little girl," the hell-god smarmed, "Good of you to wait for us. Oh, but wait. You couldn't leave if you wanted to." She laughed at her own joke.

"Told yer," Spike sounded triumphant, "Slayer and Key, as per our agreement!"

"I see the Slayer, bloodsucker, but I don't see the Key. It better be here or I am going to be so very, very angry, and you don't like me when I'm angry as I recall." Patience was not one of Glory's virtues, that is, assuming she had ANY virtues.

"Don't bleeding like you, period" Spike mumbled under his breathe. To Glory he said, "Key's in the tomb. Slayer was guarding it, like I told you."

Glory moved to peer inside the mausoleum and started to laugh, a cruel undertone stripping the sound of any levity.

"That's a child's cuddly toy, you foolish, frustrating, fanged thing."

"Yes," said Spike carefully in a patronising tone, "it's a large furry teddy bear which is why it's the Key. Had to be pure, didn' it?" Spike had remembered Glory's reason for dismissing him as the Key.

Glory looked intrigued. "So run this past me again, vampire. I do like a good laugh at the Slayer's expense."

"Like I told you, I couldn't tell you where the Key was before 'cause I didn't know. Slayer here was keeping tabs on me an' I couldn't snoop around. But I noticed she kept coming out here for some reason, so when I could I followed 'er and voila! The Key!"

"And tell me again why you are helping me now, when I seem to remember you went all petulant on me last time we met, Fang Face?" Glory batted her eyelids at him.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Look, luv, like I said, I'm a master vampire, I have my pride. I'm not supposed to be kidnapped and tortured, doesn't do my rep much good, know what I mean? And this bint," indicating Buffy, "is messing up my game good and proper so I want to mess with 'er."

"Why don't you just kill her 'master' vampire?" Glory asked mockingly.

"D'you ever sodding listen, you poorly-coiffed prat? Told you, I can't kill humans 'cause of the bloody chip those nancy boy soldiers put in my head. I wouldn't need you if I could've offed 'er meself, would I? I've had to bide my time. Make out how I was on the Slayer's side. Romance her a little to get her to drop 'er guard."

"Ewww." Glory grimaced, "Can't imagine anyone wanting to be romanced by you."

"Hey! Sod off, you trollop!" Spike looked hurt, "I'll have you know I persuaded this irritating, clingy little chit that I was in love with 'er. Things I had to do to convince 'er! I had to leave her mates alone, get all chummy with her annoying brat of a sister, make out I was upset when 'er mum died. I deserve an Oscar for that alone! Then I had to listen to her interminable bloody prattlin' about the burdens she 'as, an' how no-one love's 'er, and yadda, yadda, yawn!

"Jeez, can that girl moan! Pity there's not an Olympic sport in feeling sorry for yerself 'cause she'd bleeding win gold every time. But I let her cry on m'shoulder, cooked a couple of meals for her, let her stay at my gaff for a bit and I've got 'er convinced she's falling for me."

"Well, yes, I can believe that. She might well fall for a slime-ball like you as she doesn't strike me as someone with any taste."

"Oi, watch yer lip, or something WILL strike you, you evil baggage. Now, do you want this damn Key or not?"

"Duh!" Glory's hands were on her hips signalling her impatience.

"Our deal was, I believe, you kill the Slayer for me in return for the Key. You gonna hold to your end of the bargain, Delilah?"

"Jinx, bring me the Slayer!"

"NOW Buffy!" roared Spike.

_A/N: Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming! Final epi soon! Stay tuned!_


	8. Chapter 8 Reckoning

_Disclaimer: These characters belong to Joss Whedon, and Mutant Enemy, and were made flesh by the actors that gave them life. I borrow them here out of reverence, with respect and for fun, not profit. _

_**Previously:**_

_"NOW Buffy!" roared Spike._

**Chapter Eight - Reckoning**

On Spike's command Buffy let the handcuffs slip from her wrists as she turned the key in the padlock, unlocking and opening the mausoleum gate and slipping round into the tomb before Glory or her minions could react.

Spike had struck Jinx a wicked blow to the base of his spine and the drab minion sunk to the ground unable to move his legs, calling out, but still grovelling, to Glory in pain and shock.

Murk was moving to intercept Spike even as Glory was shouting, "Kill the traitorous butt-ugly bloodsucker. Bring me the Slayer. Find the Key. Now people!"

Punching Murk's head with such force his flying body felled several of his comrades, Spike moved towards the gates of the mausoleum. He saw Buffy had hooked the second Kargip necklace around the big bear's left paw and was climbing on an outstretched back leg to reach its throat with Spike's knife.

Turning away from Buffy, Spike leapt into the huddle of minions that was descending on him. He struck out indiscriminately with his fists and kicked viciously, hearing heads crack and bones splinter. Then he saw Glory moving forward, through the throng of annoying sycophants, to deal with Spike herself.

_'Now, Buffy, luv, now!'_ he intoned to himself.

At that moment, Glory looked over into the tomb, where Buffy was dodging the snapping teeth of an overgrown kindergarten toy, and Spike saw Glory's eyes fly open wide in horror. Her hand flew up to her throat and Spike knew the jig was up. She had recognised the necklace.

_'God, Buffy, now, luv, please,'_ Spike implored silently.

And then it happened. Glory grasped the pendant and … with a 'pop', was gone. To Spike's amazement so were all her minions. Everyone, gone. He turned to the now empty tomb and to his utter delight he saw Buffy standing by the gates, bloody knife in hand, and a small smile tugging at her mouth.

"Did we do it?" she asked tentatively.

"YOU did it, you bloody marvel!" Spike strode up to her and pulled her into a bear hug (pun intended), swinging her round and burying his face in her hair.

"Er, okay. D'you wanna make with the 'splainy, 'cause I'm not sure I followed all of this?"

------------------

Buffy linked her arm through Spike's as they set off back to the crypt.

"So, what happened back there?" Buffy asked. "Glory's gone for good hasn't she?" This question came out hesitantly.

"Yeah, pet. She won't be back." Spike smiled gently down at her. "Dawn's safe now."

"Thank you, Spike," Buffy almost whispered, squeezing his arm, then louder, "So what happened exactly?"

"Well, it was all Glory's own doing really," Spike began, "If she hadn't been fiddlin' with dimensions in an effort to get home like she was, the giant soft toys wouldn't have been drawn into our dimension."

"You sent her to their dimension, didn't you?"

"Yep, luv. First I convinced her that I wanted you dead, but 'cause of the chip I couldn't do it m'self so I needed her help to kill you." He flinched, "Sorry, luv."

He felt another squeeze to his arm. He continued:

"I told Glory I could take her to the Key if she agreed to off you. Took a lot of bloody persuading, that bint, 'cause I hadn't been her biggest fan last time we'd met! Anyway, gave her that necklace as a gift, token of my esteem so to speak, to convince her I was on the level.

"Mind you, she wasn't gonna wear the bleedin' thing at first; said it clashed with her gold lamé get up, it being silver an' all. Her dress sense and she suddenly gets all fashion conscious! So I told her mere mortals couldn't wear gold an' silver together but she, a god, could pull it off an' look stunnin'. Well, she fell for that didn' she. Right vain sod. Fell for the flattery like a high school virgin. Er, 'scuse the French."

Buffy said quickly, "So, when I killed the, erm, bear, he returned to his own dimension and Glory was pulled with him, courtesy of the necklace?"

"That's about the size of it, yeah. The Kargip stone in her necklace meant she went wherever the bear went. So now she's stuck trying to lord it over a dimension full of nursery - that's kindergarten to you, luv - characters. Pretty sure they don't have the technology to allow her to skip dimensions again so Dawn'll be safe now. Plus timing was always crucial to using the Key so it won't do Glory any good, even if she did manage to come back."

"But what happened to Murk and Jinx and all her other minions?" Buffy asked.

"They were all part of Glory; part of her essence. When she jumped dimensions, so did they, but not as minions, they will just have rejoined with Glory's being; become part of her again. Doubt she'll have the power she needs to recreate them in Tellytubbyland. She'll be all on her lonesome!"

Arriving at Spike's crypt they stopped in front to the door and Buffy turned to Spike. She raised herself and planted a light kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Spike." Buffy said softly. "You've saved Dawn. You've saved me from having to fight a god; not a fight I was looking forward to. Not a fight I thought I could win. Thank you."

"It's okay, luv. You don't owe me any thanks. I'm just as happy to see the back of Glory. You know how I feel about Dawn. And, you would have beaten Glory, you know. But it's no crime to find an easier way to defeat a foe. It's called 'strategy', an' all good generals look for other options rather than commit their forces unnecessarily, so don't forget that, right?"

Buffy nodded her understanding as the pair entered the crypt.

"Tea?" Spike asked.

"Um, thanks. But I'll make it, if you like." Buffy replied. "You've done enough for me already." She beamed at him and walked over to the electric kettle set on top of Spike's fridge.

"Thanks, luv." Spike sunk heavily into the easy chair and stuck his feet up on the wooden crate they had used as a card table. He was tired. He had been running on adrenalin since his 'Eureka' moment when he had realised the significance of the dimensional portal's ability to return its dead, and linked that to the matching gems his mate had tried to get him to buy for him and his 'special lady'. He was now seriously in hock to his mate but he really didn't care just now. He was just too damned tired.

Buffy noticed how drawn Spike looked as she carried over their mugs of tea, scooting his feet off the crate so she could set the mugs down.

"It'll be daybreak soon. I should tell Dawn and the others about the good news," she said as she settled on the arm of the chair, gently pushing Spike down as he started to rise to let her take the chair.

"Yeah, pet, 'spect you'd better be going then."

They sipped their tea in silence for a while.

Then out of the blue Buffy asked quietly, "Can I come back later?"

" 'Course you can, luv. Like I said, you're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thanks."

-----------------

Buffy had asked the Scoobies to meet at her home as early as possible that morning. Being a Saturday, that wasn't a problem except for Anya who didn't want to miss any custom at the Magic Box, but Buffy explained that what she had to say was important but wouldn't take long.

She had thought about calling the meeting in the Magic Box but she wanted the home advantage since she knew, even with the news about Glory, what she intended to say might not be well received by some.

Then they were all crowded into her lounge, suitably supplied with coffee, tea in the case of Giles, with all eyes looking expectantly at Buffy.

"Um, okay, everyone. Er, thanks for coming. Sorry it was such short notice but glad you're all here 'cause what I have to tell you is kinda important. Buffy began.

Several voices began to speak, Giles' voice cutting through them like a diamond on glass. "Buffy, WHERE have you been for the last two days? Dawn said you had gone away for a BREAK. At a time like this, in the middle of a battle to save Dawn from Glory. I didn't think you could be so selfish."

Buffy sighed. This was going to be so much harder than she had hoped.

"Giles, guys. I know you feel disappointed in me that I just took off but it was for a reason. I hoped you could trust me to do what I needed to do." Buffy's words were delivered in a tone somewhere between pleading and exasperation.

"As your Watcher, Buffy, you should have …" Giles began.

"No, Giles!" Buffy interrupted with more force than she intended. "You are not my Watcher anymore," then softening, "but I do value your help and support, really I do."

The expression on Giles' face showed Buffy that he was not mollified, but he inclined his head a fraction to permit her to continue.

"First, Dawn," she turned to her sister, "You don't have to worry about Glory anymore. She's gone and she won't be back!"

Another gabble of voices started but Buffy ignored then as she looked deep into her sister's eyes to impress on her the truth of what she was saying.

When the others realised she would only explain at her own pace they gradually became quiet, looking at her with disbelief, she noted with a certain amount of bitterness.

When all was quiet, Buffy continued, "Spike found a way to defeat Glory. He sent her to another dimension that she cannot escape from. She's gone, and we have Spike to thank for it." The silence around her continued.

Then Xander asked, "So Buff, what did you get Spike to do? How did you get him to help you?"

"I didn't," she said flatly. "Spike worked it out, without any help from me. Then he got the things he would need to make his plan work. He went back to see Glory, put himself in harm's way, to convince her to come to the cemetery where he had laid a trap for her. I only helped with capturing and later killing a demon that had been pulled into this dimension by Glory in her efforts to return home. Thanks to Spike she is now residing in that same demon dimension."

Blank faces surrounded her and she was beginning to lose her patience, never a quality she possessed in abundance at the best of times, and just now she was tired and anxious to be somewhere else.

"Look people," Buffy snapped, "This is all down to Spike, not me. He walked into Glory's camp, the place where he had been tortured unmercilessly; where he nearly died. But he went back there to help Dawn, to help us."

"And since we are talking of Spike," she groaned inwardly but decided it was now or never, "He will always be welcome in this house from now on. WELCOME," she stressed, "Not just tolerated. And I expect my friends to be at least civil to him if they can't be sociable."

Yet another babble of voices drowned out her thoughts as she felt her shoulders sagging under the weight of her friend's regard for her.

Giles' voice again cut through the cacophony, "Buffy, I know things are hard for you. Clearly you have had a, er, difficult time recently, and I realise that you have a certain partiality for enigmatic vampires but I really think that…"

"NO, Giles!" Buffy barked at him in her anger, straightening up and assuming 'the pose', "Don't you bloody dare!" Buffy smiled to herself at her use of a Spike-ism. "Don't you presume to judge my actions like that. Not until you have fought from my side of the barricades Buster!

"Not until you know what its like to be dragged from your childhood to be told that you have to kill things to save the world, that no-one will ever know or thank you for it. Not until you have been told you will never have a normal life; that you will never have a normal relationship; that you will never been able to raise children; that you are unlikely to live much into adulthood. Unless you have faced that as a teenager, then don't you DARE tell me you know things are difficult for me.

"And don't dismiss the debt we all owe Spike like that. You don't know him. You haven't wanted to know him because you have been happy with your two-dimensional view of the world. To you, to all of you, all vampires are bad and you can't see past that.

"Well, I'm sorry to have to destroy your narrow-minded sense of order, but actually there are quite a few ensouled humans who fall into the 'bad' category, without the excuse of having been made demon through no fault of their own. And by contrast, some vampires get to wear the white hats; Spike is one of them. You saw how badly he had been tortured by Glory, Giles. And yet he didn't reveal Dawn's identity and he put himself back in the lion's den to save her. To help me. I won't have you treat him as anything less than the hero he is!"

Buffy looked around the gathered Scoobies, seeing mostly shock and confusion written across their faces. Willow's expression was couched in concern and Anya looked irritated, probably because the meeting looked like it could drag on for a good while more, preventing her from earning money. Dawn, however, had a big grin on her face, and Buffy knew it wasn't there just because she was now safe from Glory's clutches.

"Okay," Buffy exhaled loudly. "I'm going now. You can all talk about me when I'm gone, but you need to know that I am through letting you all make decisions for me. I'm through letting what you think of me get in the way of what I want to do … or who I want to be with. I love you all, but I think I do enough for all of you, for this world, without having to worry what you think of me. And I think I've given up enough not to be begrudged a little happiness either."

Bending slightly to kiss Dawn on the top of her head, Buffy whispered to her, "You know where I'll be if you need me," and then she disappeared out of the back door.

----------------

Spike woke with a start when he heard the crypt door open and close softly. He was still sprawled in the easy chair, having dozed off the instant Buffy had left to go home.

Recognising Buffy's scent, he muttered, "You're back."

"Yeah," she said softly. "You would have been sooo proud of me; I said 'bloody' to Giles!"

Spike turned to look at her raising his scared eyebrow. "That's my girl!" he said smugly.

There was a beat of silence. Then:

"I'd like to be," Buffy murmured, "if that's okay with you, that is."

Spike stood up abruptly. "Sorry, luv?" he queried.

"I said; I'd like to be your girl, if you're okay with that?" Buffy looked down at her feet as she felt her face and neck get suddenly very warm.

Spike couldn't quite believe what was happening. In front of him was this gorgeous, strong, intelligent, powerful woman, and she was blushing because of him. She had never looked more beautiful to him than she did at that moment. But part of him, the William the Bloody Awful Poet part, thought he might still be dozing and this was just a trick of his subconscious while he dreamed.

He stepped closer to her and took her hand in his to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming, "I'd like that very much."

Buffy looked up and beamed at him.

Spike led her to the chair where he sat, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her gratefully.

They made out like teenagers.

Then, later they headed to the bed in the lower chamber to make out like adults, as the couple they would be until the end of their existence.

Fin


End file.
